


Rude

by Sevn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevn/pseuds/Sevn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles just wanted a little cuddle time but no, someone has to go be an adult.</p><p>Queue bother, bother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude

Sharp clicking echoed in the rafters above, disrupting each tick of the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and adding to the silent scream of frustration Stiles kept bottled in the back of his throat. 

It was his one day off, his one day, and Derek couldn’t even find the decency to spend the morning in bed with him. It was winter, and while snow was practically unheard of in Beacon Hills, he still woke up with cold toes and no wolf heater to snuggle up to. 

This morning could have been romantic. 

There was a pause in the clicking and Stiles rolled over to glare at how stupidly attractive bed head looked on Derek. Rude Wolf. That was his name now.

The werewolf had splayed himself across the sofa in the middle of the loft and was back to typing away at his laptop, some article for a site called FuzzFeed or whatever. It was almost offensive that he’d moved all the way over there to the world’s least comfortable sofa (“Derek, this is saggy and it smells like cat pee.” “all the better to keep anyone from having sex on it.”) when he could be in this epically awesome and cozy bed with an octo-Stiles, wrapped in a luxurious and patchy quilt Kira gave them, when she deciding quilting was not actually a hobby but a life sentence.

A half hour passes, Stiles doing his best to intensify is glare enough to actually catch Derek’s attention but it didn’t seem to be working. Too awake to go to sleep again, he hauled himself up. 

“Dereeeeek,” He whined.

“Busy.”

“Deeeeerek.”

“Saying my name over and over again does not change my current life status as ‘busy’.”

Stiles exhaled loudly, smirking a little when he saw Derek’s brows furrow a little. He rolled himself the rest of the way out of bed and scampered to the sofa when the floor proved to cold to stand on.

He flung himself down on the end occupied by legs and snuck his toes under Derek’s butt, who grunted, flushed, and continued to ignore him. Stiles wiggles them for extra measure and cruelty.

“Hey. Hey Derek. Heeeeey.”  
The look he received over the laptop was one of tortured desperation.  
“What do you want?”

“Your first born son. No, but really, you are so rude.”

“I’m rude? How am I rude?” Stiles could hear the italics.

“It is 9 am Derek, on a Saturday. We had plans for that bed that are being destroyed right here and right now on this sofa. That’s rude as fuck, you Rude Wolf.”

Derek just shook his head and continued typing. Again, rude. 

Since he’d found out his activated Spark was essentially allergic to his Adderall, he’d had to make do with some coping techniques and compartmentalizing actions to spaces and so on. It kept him on task when he needed to be, you know, on task. But here and now his brain was waking up and flitting about from one thing to the next.

Temporarily abandoning Derek’s punishment he glanced around the loft. The warm light coming in felt oddly reminiscent, like this was the part of the story where he was supposed to start noticing little random things lying around and let his mind wander into fond memories.

“Do you remember graduation?” Derek groaned. 

“Do I have to remember your graduation?”

“It was the best graduation ever so yes. Remember how Finstock chose you and like, seven other guys in the crowd to do a celebratory lap around the school with the lacrosse team and took another ten minutes looking for girls who would do it too because he realized he was being sexist?”

“Yes, Stiles, I remember.” Clickity click click.

“And there was that one mom who convinced him he should put on her heels and do the lap with you guys?”

“Mhmm.”

“I think she called him Cupcake.”

Derek slapped his hand to his face. “Stiles, I am in lesbians with you-”

“AHA! Yes, I have corrupted you-”

“-But I have work to do. I just need one hour, one hour, to get these done and we can spend the rest of the day in bed, I promise.”

“I can make no promises, Rude Wolf.”

He lasted six minutes. Six minutes of taking in the sight of Derek’s face, illuminated both by the light coming in through the window and the blue-white light from his laptop screen, combining to make a weird, not-Derek face. Shadows and lack there of, weird shit man.

“I’m giving you a blow-job.”

“WHAT?!” 

Stiles was already wiggling underneath Derek’s laptop and between his legs.

“No Stiles,” The laptop was bumped against the top of his head just hard enough to make him back off, sexually, that is. 

“Fiiiiine,” Stiles sighed, but her hauled himself up Derek a little more so he could wrap his arms around the other’s waist and rested his head on his abs. Six hard pillows, awesome.

He felt the weight of the laptop being placed on his back and Derek’s wrists gently pushing on the edge as he typed. The clicking was louder on this side of the laptop but, now that he was laying on his wolf-heater, it was easier to tune out and his eyelids got heavy again. 

There was no telling exactly how long he’d dozed as the sunlight coming in was the same color and Derek was still clicking the keyboard behind his head. The laptop had slid back a little and was resting against his butt which was not even a little comfortable.

“D’you memberven we fellin luff?” He mumbled against Derek’s shirt. 

“No.”

“Yeraliar.”

“Yup.”

Stile shifted his head to speak more clearly. “It was Valentine’s Day, and every fucking monster of the night was fucking and hunting and it was bloody, you were bloody, I was bloody, and that freaking love god shot you in the ass.”

“Thank you for reminding, dearest.”

“You were so nice. So nice. I thought it was terminal.”

The Hale eye roll was audible.

“But you turned back into a Sour Wolf and ruined our romance. It’s like this is our anniversary or something because it’s exactly the same.”

“How did I ruin it again?” Stiles whined from the back of the throat and nearly choked when something hard punched him in the ribs. He frowned and lifted himself up a bit just to check, flushed, layed back down and chose to ignore it.

“You made me romantic fajitas and we watched gore movies all night and we cuddled in bed and then you fucking left me for FuzzFeed.”

“It’s my job, Stiles. Someone has to do all the post Valentine’s day articles.” He hadn’t actually typed anything for a few minutes.

Stiles didn’t actually have a response for that, since they’d been saving up for a trip to comic con this summer and, while Stiles hated to admit it, Derek would be an fantabulous Batman to his Joker, with all his shoving-people-against-walls and man pain.

“I might actually have to go jerk myself off in the bathroom, alone,” he grumbled but he turned his head to lay his face in the opposite direction and huffed.

Their savings jar was shoved to the back of the corner counter in the kitchen, filled three quarters of the way with pennies that Stiles had accumulated as change over the last several months. Derek had shaken it at him irately just a week ago and demanded he take it to a Coinstar and Stiles had- not done that. He forgot to do that. He needed to do that.

Something was wrong. He scrambled off Derek and made a beeline for the Kitchen

“The clock stopped ticking again-”

An arm wrapped around his waist and hauled him toward the bed. 

“All done.”

“Derek, the clock is stopped.”

“I’ll fix it later.” Stiles groaned in frustration and Derek leaned in for a kiss.

“You totally won’t. I’ll have to get Boyd to come and get it since it’s so freaking high up and-”

“You are not talking about other people right now,” Derek growled into his throat.

Stiles just snorted at him and smacked him with a pillow.

“Nope.” Derek paused, frowning. 

“Nope… as in…?”

“You were rude, you don’t get a piece of this without cuddles 'till noon time, and what do you know, the clock is stuck at nine. Indefinitely. So we are cuddling, indefinitely.”

He rolled onto his side and snuggled back into Derek who released a high pitch whine. 

“You are evil.”

All he got in response was a tongue stuck out at him from over the other’s shoulder.

“You...you Rude Boy.”

The manic laughter that followed bounced off the wall and echoed up into the rafters, leaving the two curled together in bed, whispers and giggles trickling upwards until a lazy, cozy, quiet was all that remained.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Smaugatron, you little shit.


End file.
